


Dream With the Stars

by notpeterthepanda



Series: Using White Lighters to See [1]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: AU - Lawrence and Linda Never Met, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Phineas Flynn Has A Temper, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpeterthepanda/pseuds/notpeterthepanda
Summary: A loud, (allegedly) evil inventor with baggage faces off against his quiet nemesis in a building shaped vaguely like Ferb's head. Meanwhile, a triangle-headed genius works together with his partner in crime, a Fletcher with a highly non-traditional hair color, to create their daily invention.(Phineas and Ferb swap places with Doofensmirtz and Perry respectively, and less changes than you'd think.)





	Dream With the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Note: everyone's at AYA ages!

He’s late.

And like, that’s cool and all. You’re not a stickler for punctuality, it’s chill. If anything, it’s probably a good thing that he’s late, because that means you might actually be able to finish your Big Idea and give Danville the best day ever, before he comes in and starts, you know… breaking everything.

So you’ll keep going without him! There’s no reason he’d have to be here, anyway, it’s not like you’re **waiting** on him or anything. Nah, that’d be dumb.

Still, you find yourself moving a little slower than usual as you put the finishing touches on your Big Idea and start pushing the machine out to the balcony. But that’s probably just because it’s heavy, because man, this thing weighs a lot more than you were expecting. You guess you should really try going back to the gym, so it’s easier to move stuff like this around. Last time you went, though, you got a lot of weird looks, and you thought you saw someone from your old neighborhood there too, and—it just felt so awkward, being there on your own. You don’t really want to do that again.

It’d be so much easier if you could just build stuff out on the balcony. Back when you lived in the old house, you used to just make everything out in the backyard, and there was lots of space to do anything you wanted! But now, you live in this quiet, isolated, claustrophobic penthouse, on the top floor of this really tall building shaped vaguely like Ferb’s head. Heck, you can’t even go back to the old house anymore: Mom decided to move out after you and Candace went to college, since there was way too much space for just one person. You think that some German guy and his husband live there now?

Anyway, you can’t work on your Big Ideas out in the open. It’d be a lot easier, sure. But when you do that, Ferb kind of has this tendency to just land **on** them and break them right away, and then he takes off immediately without even acknowledging you. Like, he completely ignores the traps you—

Hang on. Traps, did you make a trap for Ferb yet? Aw, man, you completely forgot! Jeez, no wonder he isn’t even bothering to show up on time anymore if you’re always making dumb mistakes like that. Come on, you minored in Traps in college, you should **seriously** be able to remember stupid stuff like this by now. Panicking, you run over towards the door, pulling a wrench and some spare parts out of your pockets. Some string, a portable electronic scanner, a stapler, peanut butter, three left socks, that doohickey that fuses with your spinal cord, rubber snakes, and a handful of unwrapped cough drops. There’s gotta be something you can make with this that can hold him.

Wait, never mind, you did set a trap! Phew, that’s a relief. You totally thought you’d forgotten, but sure enough, there’s that bouncy house trap you spent all night making.

And… there’s Ferb. Inside the trap.

“Oh,” you mumble quietly, voice breaking from lack of use. “Um.” Shoving the wrench and bits of metal back in your pockets, you clear your throat. “Oh, th—there you are, Ferb! Gosh, I just thought you were running late, but it turns out I just forgot to check the trap! Sorry to leave you waiting. You weren’t bored in there, right? I mean, I didn’t test it, but I thought this trap looked awesome.”

Experimentally, Ferb jumps. The whole bouncy castle shakes. He gives you a thumbs-up.

“Cool!” Man, that looks like fun.

You kind of wish you’d tried it out. But you’d forgot it was there, and now he’s totally going to destroy it before you get the chance. Sure, you guess you could always just make another one for yourself later, but then you’ll be alone, and it… wouldn’t really be any fun by yourself.

But hey, that’s why you had this Big Idea, right? “So, I bet you’re wondering what we’re going to do today. I was thinking about how awesome bouncy houses used to be when I was a kid. Man, I used to really love them. It makes you feel like you’re flying! Trampolines, too, and… I mean, that kind of thing was always really cool. So I made this!” You pat your new invention. “It alters the molecular structure of… um, b—basically, it turns stuff bouncy. I’m gonna hit all the ground in Danville with it, so everything’ll be like one big bouncy house. It’ll be lots for fun for everyone!”

Ferb’s staring at you, eyebrows raised, looking distinctly unimpressed. And you get it, you get it, maybe it’s not the **safest** thing in the world. Like, turning all the floors in Danville bouncy would be super cool for walking and stuff, but probably not so much for… driving. And doing stuff like brain surgery would probably be a lot harder if the surgeons were bouncing around and junk.

But it could still work out! It could still be really cool, right? And once you’re done, maybe you could go downstairs and bounce through the streets, and there’d be other people out having fun, and you could hang out with them and tell them that you’re the one who made everything bouncy and make some new friends!  Just because it’s a little dangerous doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. This could end up being the best day ever, if he just gave you a chance!

Well. That’s why you have him trapped, you guess. You swallow. “It—it’ll be fun,” you repeat to him, to yourself. “You’ll see.” You turn away from Ferb. Time to walk over, turn it on, and start the party!

There’s a loud noise, like the world’s biggest balloon getting popped. You wince—jeez, that’s so **loud** , you’re going to have tinnitus before you turn twenty—and then a solid punch lands on your turned back, and you wince again. Ow.

Whirling around, you shove your hand as quickly as you can into your pockets, grabbing for your wrench, and swing wildly in his general direction. Smoothly, he ducks, snatches it out of your hands, and tosses it aside. “Hey, no fair!” you complain, dodging a punch, a kick, another kick. “Come on, dude, that’s cheating.” Expressionless, he shrugs.

Okay, well, you just gotta make it over there fast and turn it on before he can start trying to dismantle it. Shoulders hunching slightly, you lunge towards him, using the full brunt of your body weight to knock him off balance. It works: he falls over, faceplanting onto the ground. Yes! Quickly, you scurry over to your invention and squint at the controls.

“Just gotta set it to Danville,” you mutter under your breath, tapping. Man, you put way too many settings on this thing. “Okay, D—A—N—V—I—L—” A hand grabs onto your shoulder, yanking you back, and suddenly Ferb’s standing over the invention with a screwdriver. “Wait, no no no, don’t!” You tackle him, he elbows you, you headbutt him—or at least, you try to, but you miss, and before you know it your forehead’s landing on the random fire button.

“Personally,” Ferb comments, watching your invention shudder and start firing wildly out into the city, “I question the inclusion of a random fire button in the first place.”

Huh. In retrospect, yeah, you’re not sure why you put that there. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time. But then again, you **had** just drunk a whole bunch of energy drinks and soda, so maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly.

Oh well. You focus back on the big picture, on the Big Idea. Of course, as always, Ferb’s two steps ahead of you: he’s already crouching down, screwdriver in hand, working to take apart the support structure, ignoring the blasts soaring aimlessly over his head. “Oh, no you don’t!” Rushing forwards, you try to push him away, but he grabs your wrists onehanded and pulls, sending you crashing down to the floor.

Wow. Jeez, okay.

Rubbing the back of your head, you sit up, ready to try again—oh, no, he’s already holding his blowtorch! Yelping, you run forwards, trying to knock it out of his hands in time, but it’s too late. He already opened up the casing, and he’s calmly melting the circuitry. Your invention sparks a little, muzzle smoking and glowing defiantly, but eventually gives up: it slumps over, all the lights dying down with a defeated whirring sound. Lifeless.

Tucking the blowtorch back into wherever he keeps that thing, Ferb smirks at you, and, for good measure, gives the machine a solid kick. Part of the nozzle snaps off, falling to the floor and rolling away.

“Huh,” you say blankly, staring at it. Well, there goes the best day ever.

Man, and you’d been really looking forward to this one, too. Back when you were really little, you and Candace used to love jumping on trampolines, and in bouncy houses. You’d never actually owned a trampoline (not for any more than a day, at least, because when you made one they always ended up disappearing around mid-afternoon), but sometimes they’d hold events and parties and stuff at your school, and they’d bring them in then. There was a bunch of other stuff they had there too, like bobbing for apples, or—

Wait, that’s it! “Ferb, I know what I’m going to do tomorrow!” Today’s invention might have been a bust, but tomorrow can still be the best day ever! If you put apples into Danville’s water supply and all the other bodies of water in the city, and purify all the water so that people can safely get it in their mouths and stuff, people can bob for apples no matter where they are. Fuji, Golden Delicious, candy, toffee, Red Delicious, name-brand electronic devices, Gala… the possibilities are endless!

Tipping his fedora, Ferb turns and walks towards the balcony. Wow, you guess he’s leaving already. He probably has places to be. You mean, you don’t really know what he does, aside from come in and stop your Big Ideas, but he’s probably got other super-spy stuff he needs to do.

Which, you know. That’s cool.

Anyway, you’re totally going to seize the day tomorrow! But first, you should probably get this junk cleaned up.

You grab the broom from where you left it on the ground in the middle of the room, fish the dustpan out from under the bed, and—where’d you leave the container for spare parts again? You check everywhere, in the sink and the fridge and by the shower and on top of the printer, and eventually you find it under the bed, right next to where the dustpan had been a minute ago. Sheesh, you can’t believe you didn’t see that! And you put it there so you’d remember where it was, too. Gosh, you’re turning into Mom. Next thing you know, you’re going to be offering Ferb pie after he’s done breaking your stuff.

Actually, you know, pie sounds pretty good right about now. Maybe you should. There’s no way you’d be as good at making it as Mom is, though, and you never really thought to ask her to teach you how to bake them. Oh well.

Setting it down by the trashed machine, you start taking what’s left of it apart, putting the salvageable stuff in the spare parts container to be used in other Big Ideas later. The parts that are too far gone, though, you throw across the room in the general direction of the trash can. Most of them miss, but you do manage to land it in the basket a few times! Score!

When you’re done, you straighten up and dust yourself off, glancing around. Okay, did you forget anything?

Oh, right, the trap! You were right, he did totally mess it up. There’s just a sad-looking, deflated mess of bright-colored plastic lying on the ground where that awesome bouncy house had been.

You walk over to it and pick what’s left of it up, turning it over, examining it for damage. Looks like he used a pin to pop it. You could probably still fix it pretty easily. It’d just need a patch to cover up that hole. But, um, you guess there’s… no real reason you would.

Your hands go still, your shoulders slump. Looking down at it, you sigh. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the ground, fingers digging absentmindedly into the squishy, stretchy PVC tarpaulin.

She really did use to love these things. When you were little, you used to make stuff like this a lot, so she’d be happy about it. And like, she still tried to bust you for it back then, because that’s just what she did, but you know she was still kind of happy it was there. You two had lots of fun on these things. Especially in the summer.

Something’s burning in the back of your throat, in your chest. Your hand twists. The plastic rips.

You, you want **her** to feel like this.

You want Candace to feel out of place, and sad, and lonely, and—and **invisible** , all of the time! You want her to feel as bad as you do, and you could make that happen, you could make her feel like that. You can do **anything** , anything you want, so why is it that she gets to be happy and you don’t? It isn’t fair! And you could take that from her. You could take everything from her, you want to.

You… don’t want to.

Your anger curdles in your throat, going sour, going bad, until eventually you aren’t really mad at her anymore. Just tired. Swallowing, you tuck your knees underneath your chin—or, um, your mouth, because you don’t really have a chin like most people do—and pull your phone out of your pocket. Flicking off the cough drop that’s stuck to it, you unlock your phone, go to your contacts, and hit Candace’s number.

Uncertainly, your thumb hovers over the call button.

“You should call her.”

Yelping, you glance around—okay, seriously, you live alone, who **said** that?—and scramble back blindly in order to try to get away from whoever’s in your penthouse. Or you try to, anyway. But before you know it, the back of your head’s slamming into something that feels suspiciously like someone’s kneecaps.

Slowly, you glance up. Ferb blinks down at you. “Ferb?” you hesitantly utter, almost expecting him to disappear. He doesn’t. “Dude, I th—thought you left!” Oh, jeez, this is embarrassing. “Seriously, didn’t I see you walking over to the balcony? Why were you going over there if you weren’t leaving?” Ferb produces your wrench and offers it to you. Right, he’d thrown it while you were fighting, hadn’t he? “Oh, um. Thanks.” Awkwardly, you take it and stick it back in your pocket.

He wordlessly points at your phone. Right, he said you should call Candace, didn’t he? But you can’t. Well, technically you **can**. Obviously. But it’s not really that simple, you know?

“She won’t want to talk to me,” you admit, turning the phone over in your hands.

Head tilting inquisitively, eyeing you, Ferb watches you like he’s waiting for you to elaborate. You don’t. “If you were my brother,” he eventually says, “I’d want you to call.”

He leaves. For real this time: you sit there and watch as he walks over to the balcony and takes off in his hoverjet, flying off to wherever he goes after he’s done ruining your Big Ideas. You stare after him for a long time, too, frowning a little.

And then you shove your phone roughly back in your pocket, stand up, and throw what’s left of the bouncy house in the trash where it belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using this to stave off writer's block, so maybe expect more of this series when the motivation hits me!  
> Also, if you like roleswaps, check out Toxic_Waste's "Coasting Rollers" if you haven't already! It's a different take on an A plot/B plot roleswap, but I got some inspiration for this from that fic: it's really good!!


End file.
